


Reunions

by caradoxing (saunteredvaguelydownward)



Series: Niah Surana [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Family, Gen, alistair's here too but only a bit, not enough to justify tagging him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunteredvaguelydownward/pseuds/caradoxing
Summary: The war is done and Niah Surana has made herself a new family. But what of her old one?





	Reunions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on this only being two parts but who knows, it may become something more if I feel like it.

She is twenty when he sees her again. By instinct, he finds himself taking steps towards her but manages to stop himself.

He cannot be sure if this is his daughter or just another elf with red hair and his eyes. Why would she be there walking the streets of Denerim in Grey Warden armour and not hidden in the prison they had stole her away to. He had once thought that there were few fates worse for his little girl than to be locked away in a tower, surrounded by those who reviled her and other scared, lonely children. Now looking on this woman—and it breaks his heart to think his girl would now be a woman—he imagines her fighting darkspawn or creatures equally vile. He imagines her in danger at any given moment. He imagines her, broken and gone. He imagines it no more because the thought bleeds him all over again, like a fresh wound, not just one reopened as he has done countless times.

He convinces himself that it is not her after all and resigns himself to saying nothing.

* * *

There is a celebration, because of course there is. All Niah wants to do now is sleep, curl up and close her eyes for just a moment. Surely she deserves as much. But if there is anything she has learned, it is that the world will demand things even when she feels she has nothing left to give.

Besides, when she looks out on this crowd of faces with hope in their eyes when for so long there has been nothing, she can’t bring herself to let them down. Her friends say their bits, some eloquent and some less so, and she stands quietly aside where it is comfortable. When it winds down, some look confused that the famous Hero of Ferelden has said nothing but others give knowing nods. She loves them for it.

She visits each of her friends and looks to the future with each of them in the way that can only be done when the world is not threatening to collapse into itself. She is sitting with Alistair, long after the masses have started to disperse, her head against his shoulder in a calm silence when a man weaves his way through what is left of the crowd to interrupt it. He is small, greying and familiar in a way she cannot place. He stands a moment, giving her an odd look—though she has dealt with many in the days since leaving the circle—but saying nothing, as if he did not want to rob her of this moment.

Alistair, out of routine now, greets the man for the both of them. “Hello, friend. Is there something you needed?”

The man opens his mouth and closes it several times before saying anything but never taking his eyes off of her. “I knew it was you.” It is almost a whisper, like it was meant only for her. “I saw you then and i knew you.”

It has been too long a day and suddenly she cannot take it anymore. This man is staring too much and too closely and suddenly her eyes are stinging. She wants to tell this man that he is mistaken. She wants to tell him that she is not someone else’s ghost, if that is what he sees. She has enough of her own grief without taking on what belonged to this stranger. She is no savior either, if that is his mistake. She is just another survivor, at the end of the day.

“Niah, da’len. I never thought…” She is crying now but she does not know why. From the moment the man says her name, there is too much noise and nothing makes sense any more. She is just about to give into her instinct to run away when she feels Alistair reach for her hand and squeeze it gently.

“I’m sorry,” she hears Alistair say. “You’re upsetting my friend. I think you should lea-”

“No,” she cuts him off before he can finish. Her voice is hoarse and small. She gives a questioning look to the man, hoping he can explain. There is a heaviness in the pit of her stomach she cannot put a name to, like circling the edge of a memory when you are so close to remembering but it is always just out of reach.

“Niah,” he says her name again. “My little Niah. I’m your... father.” He seems to stumble on the last word, as though he has not used it in a long time.

She cannot say anything but for once it is because there are a million words all trying to fight their way up her throat at once. A part of her wants to believe he is a liar because it hurts too much to hope but she can see he is telling the truth.

Another part of her almost hates him for it.

Almost.


End file.
